The Somethings So Familiar
by smc-27
Summary: Texas heat and starlight. Action films and basketball and music she knew he hated. Nicknames and laughter and him holding her hand through tragedy. He made a promise she didn't know about, and it was one he wouldn't break. NP Oneshot


**A/N:** More NP. Took a little break when writing Trouble & Temper (will be updated soon, I promise), and this is what came out.

All details from the show are the same except Jamie doesn't exist.

**----**

"No! You know what? I don't care! If you wanted to convince me that you want only me, you shouldn't have slept with someone else!"

He knew that voice. She was standing in line for a coffee, and though the shop was mostly empty, she clearly hand't noticed him. He was sitting by the window, his nose buried in the day's box scores, and she'd drawn attention to herself with the angry words she was speaking.

But he knew that voice. He'd known that voice for a long, long time.

"Poor guy," he called out, making her turn to him.

He was wearing that smirk. That smirk she'd fallen in love with once upon a time. She wasn't sure how she could go from so pissed off to so thrilled in a split second, but his presence had accomplished it.

"Nathan Scott?!"

She abandoned the cashier and flew towards him as he stood, waiting for her to wrap those skinny arms around him. And she felt every bit as good as she used to when they were really only kids.

"How are you, Peyton?" he asked before really thinking. He had a pretty good idea, given the conversation he'd just overheard.

"I'd say OK, but you wouldn't believe me," she said with a smile. "God, how long has it been?"

"5...6 years?" he offered. "Too long."

"Yeah, definitely," she nodded. "One sec, OK? I need a coffee badly."

He watched as she walked to the counter and placed her order, offering a polite smile to the cashier. Her demeanor had certainly done a 180 since seeing him, and he was actually oddly proud of that.

But what he noticed more than that, was that she was still sexy as hell. Maybe sexier. Perfect style, and longer hair, and those green eyes that had always been so intriguing to him and probably every other man she'd ever met. He noticed the way her hips moved as she walked back to him and sat down. Maybe he shouldn't have noticed, but he was a man, after all.

"What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly, shaking her head, as though still trying to get used to the fact that he was actually there.

"Coaching a minor league team," he explained. "I've been here about a month."

"Wow," she muttered. "Nathan Scott."

They shared a moment, just looking at each other. She noticed how his features had hardened in all the best ways. Stronger jaw line, and she could already see that his body was even more incredible than she remembered. His hair was far shorter than she'd last seen it. He was wearing a simple blue shirt that made his eyes even more brilliant. She was sure, however, that the same would have been true no matter what.

"Cheaters, huh?" he said, referring to the conversation he'd overheard.

"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "6 months of my life wasted." He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "Don't give me the lines, OK? Don't go all 'you learn something from every relationship', on me."

"I was actually going to say that guys are dicks and you don't deserve that," he said with a laugh. He wasn't sure how they seemingly hadn't missed a beat though they hadn't spoken in so long.

"Oh. Well, go ahead," she said, smiling as he laughed. "How _are_ you?"

"I'm good," he said with a nod. "You know, new job, new city, new lifestyle."

"What?"

"Haley and I divorced, Peyton," he informed her quietly. "Two years ago."

She didn't know that. After she'd left home all those years ago, she'd kept touch for a while. When she and Lucas crashed and burned, she realized it was just easier to leave Tree Hill behind. She'd lost touch with them shortly after her breakup with the elder of the Scott brothers, and hadn't spoken to any of them in years. She had her own life, and her own friends, and she was long-since over the blonde. She'd fallen out of love with Lucas immediately after he left her in that hotel room. It was really easy, actually. Really easy.

She knew of Nathan's accident - it had been front page news in every major sports market in the country. She had wanted to talk to him, and had tried to call, but they'd moved, and though she was sure she could have gotten a forwarding address or number, she didn't. She feared that made her an awful friend, but judging by the smile on Nathan's face as he sat across from her, she assumed he didn't harbour any ill feelings towards her.

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely, shaking her head. And she was sorry. She knew Nathan and Haley had their troubles in their younger days, but she had no idea they'd split up.

"It's...after the accident, there was a bit of a dark period," he said softly, looking down to his coffee cup. He wasn't sure why he was opening up to her, but...he knew her. She was his friend, no matter how much time or space had separated them.

"Naturally," she said, as though it were obvious.

"I wasn't...it was just bad," he insisted regrettably. "She kind of pulled away, and I kind of pushed her away, and...it just stopped working."

He was over it. Truthfully, he'd been over it as soon as Haley moved out of their house and stopped being his support. He was still in a wheelchair and going through the toughest time in his life, and sure, he wasn't being the best husband, but he felt she threw in the towel a little too soon.

They cut ties and the divorce went through quickly, and he hadn't spoken to her since.

The truth was, he started wondering if he'd wasted years of his life with her. He'd loved her, of course he had. He thought she was the one, or he wouldn't have married her. It was just easier to let go than he thought it would have been.

After the divorce, he was living in that big house all alone, and Tree Hill felt a lot less like home. His brother had tried not to take sides, but had eventually started spending less and less time with him, and more and more time with Haley. The sad part was, he wasn't really surprised by that. Lucas had known Haley longer, really, and it wasn't unforeseen that he'd side with his best friend.

The call came for the job in Austin, and he wondered if it was fate. He knew Peyton was there. She'd moved there just before the last time he talked to her. Sure, she could have left years earlier, but a quick internet search - that he'd never admit to anyone - told him that she still lived there. Moving someplace and having a friend already there seemed like a pretty great idea.

He moved to the city and started working with his team, but he didn't seek her out. He didn't look for her or go to her office. Sure, he wanted to renew his friendship with her, but as he'd learned in part of his rehab and therapy (no, he'd never admit that, either) sometimes you have to just let things happen instead of trying to force them. If it was meant to be, they'd find each other.

And they found each other.

It was the same coffee shop he went to every Sunday morning. It wasn't close to his house at all, but he'd found it a couple weeks after moving, just stopping in because he was in desperate need of a coffee, and found himself enamored with the space. Dark lighting and old wood furniture and a black and white tile floor.

Come to think of it, he should have known this was her kind of place. Still, he couldn't believe she was actually sitting in front of him.

"Nathan, I'm...I don't really know what to say," she said softly.

Her left hand cradled her coffee cup, and he noticed there wasn't a ring there.

He wasn't sure why that mattered.

"You don't have to say anything," he insisted, flashing her that grin that had reeled her in in the first place when she was just 15 and he was jogging past her on the basketball court. "Tell me about your life here. I...it's crazy that we're sitting here."

"It is crazy," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe I didn't know you moved here!"

"I can't believe you've changed so much."

"I have not," she scoffed, waving her hand. "I'm still the same bitch I always was."

"I'm glad. I hate nice girls," he joked.

"Well then, are _you_ in for a treat," she said. They both laughed and she wondered if she was flirting.

She wondered if he'd know she was flirting.

She wondered why she was flirting.

"Come on. Spill. Tell me everything I've missed in...6 years," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

And so they sat there in that little coffee shop and they listened to the loop of music that was playing, and she pointed out the bands she'd signed when they came on. He'd shake his head and tell her he was proud of her. He was. She'd really made something of herself.

She told him of her past relationships, as trivial as they were, and he shook his head. He hated that she'd been through so much. They didn't talk about Lucas, and neither cared. It wasn't about him. It hadn't been for a long time. He asked about Brooke, and Peyton said she hadn't spoken to her in years, but the last she heard, the brunette was engaged to some movie producer out of L.A.

"We've been sitting here for three hours," she noted, checking the time on her phone.

"You have somewhere better to be?" he asked. He flashed that smirk that always made her do whatever he'd wanted, and she smiled at him.

"No. Definitely not," she said softly. "Hey, you said you needed to paint your place, right?"

"Oh, I like where this is going," he said with a smug smile, leaning back in his chair.

He'd known when he mentioned painting, that she'd offer to help. The thing that surprised him was that he hadn't mentioned it so he wouldn't have to do it himself, he had mentioned it so he could spent a little more time with her. He was starting to get the impression that they'd be doing a lot of that.

"I can't trust you with a roller. You remember when Deb asked us to paint the deck at the beach house?" she asked with a laugh.

"Whatever! You painted my leg!"

"I slipped," she said innocently, shrugging her shoulder cutely. "And I seem to remember that someone threw me into the ocean."

"I was helping clean you off," he said, smirking boyishly.

"Right."

"It worked, didn't it?" he asked, raising his brow at her. She rolled her eyes and he laughed. "Well, if you want to help me, I'll take it."

"Yeah. Definitely. When can I see it?"

"The house? Whenever you want."

He shrugged his shoulder, and the devious smile on her face was one he used to see all the time. She'd send him that smile in the hall of the high school and then she'd be pulling him towards her car and they'd go to the beach and make out on the sand instead of learning about negative integers.

He watched her sling her bag over her shoulder, and she stood, raising her brow expectantly.

"Come on. I want to see it now."

He followed her out of the coffee shop and looked at her in confusion when he saw that she was opening the door to a brand new BMW convertible. She rolled her eyes and he walked to his Range Rover, calling over his shoulder for her to follow him.

He felt like they hadn't been apart for years. He felt like they used to when it was just the two of them, using each other for comfort and laughter and maybe a little bit of an escape.

----

They became inseparable. Quickly.

She helped him paint his house, and she squealed and punched him when his hand 'slipped' and he brushed the grey paint in her hair. He laughed when she tackled him, and he just held her in his arms as she tried to hit him. It was then that she realized how much stronger he was than he used to be. He was a man, not just a boy. He clearly wasn't 16 anymore.

She'd had to pull herself away from him to keep her breathing steady.

She'd book anthem singers for his games through her label, giving both her artists and his team extra buzz. He'd take her lunch at the office. They'd watch movies and go to dinner and just spend time together. They'd fall asleep on his sofa watching basketball games she didn't care about, and he'd go with her to see indie bands she knew he wouldn't be able to stand.

In just a little over a month, they'd built a friendship like they'd never really had. Better than senior year. There was no Lucas or Haley to distract them, and there was no one telling them that it was a bad idea for two people who used to date to hang out so much. It wasn't a bad idea. She didn't think so, and neither did he. No one else mattered. The few friends of hers that she introduced him to eyed him appreciatively, but they didn't make any moves. Peyton was relieved.

They drove to San Antonio one night to watch the Spurs. Peyton insisted they take her car, because driving from San Antonio to Austin with the top down was something every Texan had to do at some point. He reminded her that they weren't Texans, and she simply responded with _'when in Rome'_.

"Is it always this fucking hot?" he asked, peeling his tee shirt away from his body and fanning himself with it.

"You haven't had a Texas summer yet, darlin'," she said, and he groaned. "And whatever. Just another reason for you to take your shirt off. I know how much you _love_ taking your shirt off."

"Like you complain?" he said, raising his brow. He'd seen the way she watched him when he played on the court down the street from his house.

They were sitting on a little patio at a little Tex-Mex restaurant before the game started. She was wearing just jeans and a loose fitting tank top - no bra, he noticed for a reason he wasn't sure - and he was in jeans and a plain black tee shirt. She'd always loved him in black. It made his eyes stand out. She didn't know why she cared.

"Whatever," she mumbled.

"Sawyer," he said, leaning across the table. Her eyes met his, and she saw that he was smirking at her. "It's OK to think I'm sexy."

"Oh my God," she scoffed. It was clear the guy hadn't lost that arrogance that used to drive her crazy.

"I think you're sexy, too," he added.

The waitress came with their food before Peyton could ask why he was saying that. She didn't want to care. She liked it. She liked Nathan.

It was dangerous.

The Spurs lost the game, and Nathan cared more than Peyton did. They'd never been his favourite team, but he liked them more than he liked the Grizzlies. Peyton patronizingly pat his back and told him it was just a game. He'd always hated that and she knew as much. He rolled his eyes at her, and she just laughed.

He'd been bugging her about letting him drive her car since that first day he'd seen it, and she hadn't wanted to let him. Well, she let on that she didn't want to let him. She teased him about the last time he drove her car and the accident he got into, and he just looked at her and very seriously reminded her that he'd grown up a little since then. She knew as much.

When they were walking through the parking lot after the game, she pulled her keys out of her bag and tossed them to him, and his eyes lit up like a little boy's.

"Seriously!?"

"Go on, Super Star. You know you want to," she said enticingly.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple, and she had no idea why. She didn't ask, and she didn't complain.

He opened the car door for her and she stepped in, and she noticed the smile hadn't left his face. Who knew driving her car would make him so happy?

He turned the key and looked over at her, and she hit the button to retract the roof. She tuned into a hip hop station - something she very, very rarely ever did - as he pulled out of the parking space. He smiled at her and nodded his head, and she put her arms behind, clutching the headrest in a way that looked to him to be unexpectedly comfortable.

She turned up the radio when a Keri Hilson song came on, and when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she just told him to shut up and that it was catchy, and that she loved Kanye West's influence. He laughed at her and, just because he wanted to, he rest his hand on her thigh. She placed her hand over his, and they each smiled to themselves.

She fell asleep somewhere close to Austin, and he felt oddly _right_ sitting with her like that. He took his hand from beneath hers and held the wheel, letting his left arm hang out the window. The wind whipped through his hair, and he looked up briefly to see all those stars she'd told him about. He thought of waking her, but she looked so cute, so peaceful, that he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He pulled up to her house and cut the engine, and he leaned over, brushing her hair from her face and letting his hand rest over her cheek a bit until she stirred.

"Are we home?"

"Yeah. We're home," he said softly.

"It's late," she murmured.

"Not that late," he said. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

She'd picked him up at his house, and he thought of just calling a cab or taking her car home and coming back the next morning, but when they reached the door and she unlocked it, she turned around to face him.

"Just stay," she said simply.

He didn't say anything in response. He just nodded his head.

She took his hand again and led him upstairs to her bedroom. Any time he'd stayed over before, she'd set him up in one of her spare bedrooms, or they'd fallen asleep on her sofa. This was very different. He wasn't expecting anything, and he wasn't going to try anything, but as she disappeared into the bathroom to change, he tried to remember the last time they shared a bed.

Too long, he thought.

She emerged wearing a silver satin nightgown. Her hair was up, and she sent him a little smile as she tucked her legs beneath the sheets.

He wondered when she became so beautiful. She'd always been attractive. Sexy. Cute, even, from time to time. But now she was beautiful. She was a woman. A perfect one. That little satin nightgown was amazing on her, and he wanted to tell her so, but there was a line there that he wasn't sure he wanted to cross. Sleeping in the same bed was one thing. Friends could sleep in the same bed. Telling her he thought she was beautiful was a whole other situation. Sure, he could playfully tell her he thought she was sexy when they were in a public place, and it could be platonic enough.

He was aware that in the mostly-darkness of her bedroom, with her wearing only a single layer of satin, it was very, very different.

"Nate, it's just me," she said when she saw that he was reluctant to even pull his shirt off.

"I know you just want to see me strip down," he teased. She shook her head at him, then rolled onto her side so her back was to him.

She kind of did want to see him strip down, though.

He saw the curve of her shoulder and her neck, and he wanted to trace that bare skin with his hand and his lips. He wanted her to say his name like she used to, but different. But he couldn't do that. So he just pulled his tee shirt up over his head, unzipped his jeans, and climbed into bed next to her in just his boxers.

"Hey Nathan?"

"Yeah?" he said softly, his tone matching hers.

"I'm glad you're here," she admitted. "I didn't realize how much I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Peyton."

He rarely called her by her first name. She wondered if that meant something.

She had to ask herself why she wanted it to.

When they woke in the morning, his large hand was resting on her thigh, and his chest was pressed firmly against her back. His breath tickled her neck, and he could smell the coconut of her shampoo, just the way it always used to smell.

He pulled her a little closer before they really woke up, and she let out a contented little sigh.

She used to make the same noise.

He adored that noise.

He was glad some things never change.

----

It was the middle of November, and Nathan's team was off to a decent start. 7-4, and undefeated at home. Not bad for a guy who'd never coached before. He had a good teacher, though, and he still called Whitey for advice every now and again.

He was sitting in his office at the stadium when his cell rang, and he saw just Peyton's last name flash across the screen. He quickly abandoned the scouting reports he'd been reading and picked up the phone.

It wasn't lost on him that he smiled a certain way when he saw that name on his phone.

"Hello?"

"Nathan," she said softly.

"What's wrong?" he asked knowingly. "Are you OK?"

"My dad." He heard her biting back a sob, and his heart dropped. "He had a heart attack."

"Where are you? Are you at work?" He was grabbing his keys and his bag already, and he was going to go do whatever she needed him to do.

"I just got home. Tracy drove me," she said. "Alan's going to drive my car back after work."

He almost laughed. He knew that feeling - you dwell on the insignificant things to distract yourself from the significant ones.

"I'm coming over. Tell me what you need."

"I need...Will you come to Tree Hill with me?" Her voice was timid, and he knew she probably thought he'd say no.

But he didn't hesitate to say yes.

Not even three hours later, they were in the air, flying back to the town Nathan had told Peyton it'd take a miracle to get him back to. He'd never considered that it might take a tragedy.

She took his hand as soon as they were seated, and she didn't let go the entire flight. She didn't say a word, either. Nathan got her some water when the flight attendant came around, and she smiled weakly as a thank you for responding when she couldn't.

He wanted to tell her it'd all be OK, but he didn't know if it would be. He knew she was aware that he wasn't the kind of guy to make those promises if he couldn't keep them. He just silently held her hand.

He didn't think of himself once in that entire flight. He didn't think what it meant for him to be returning to his hometown to see the brother he only spoke to once every couple weeks and the woman who left him. He knew he'd have to see both of them, but it wasn't about them, and it wasn't about him. It was about Peyton and what she needed, and he'd do whatever he could to help her through.

The plane touched down, and Nathan squeezed her hand in a show of support, and she rest her head on his shoulder.

"I called mom before we left," he explained softly. "She said we can stay at the house."

"OK," she whispered.

"Peyton," he said, and she looked up at him. "Whatever you need, you tell me."

"I will."

"Hey," he said, "I know you. Promise me."

He saw her smile a little bigger than she had all day, and he stroked her thumb with his own.

"I promise."

Deb picked them up at the airport, and she wrapped Peyton in a hug so motherly and so secure that Peyton smiled through her tears. Nathan's hand never left her body. He'd cup her elbow or rub her back or hold her hand. He was always touching her, as though if he let go, he'd be failing in what he'd set out to do. He needed to be there for her, and that meant holding her up and holding onto her, and being her source of strength.

Deb dropped them at the hospital and said she'd have a car brought over for them so that when they wanted to leave, they could just drive themselves.

He stood with her outside her father's room for at least 15 minutes until she got the courage to go in. He kissed her forehead and nodded at her, then he pushed the door open for her. He watched through the window as she hugged her lucid, but fragile father, and he wanted desperately to wipe the tears he watched fall from her eyes.

But instead, he took a seat on one of the horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting room, and he did just that. He waited.

"Nathan," Lucas said, walking into the room. Nathan stood and the brothers embraced. "I just heard. Deb said you came with her."

It was obviously no question who Lucas was talking about. Nathan had made it no secret that he and Peyton had reconnected, and Lucas hadn't seemed fazed by that.

"Yeah. She's...she's scared," Nathan said. "She's hardly said two words. I...She'll be alright, though."

"God, has that girl not been through enough?" Lucas asked, almost to himself. His eyes locked with Nathan's in silent recognition that Lucas was one of the things that happened to her, and even earlier, and probably less significantly, Nathan was one of the things that happened to her.

"I don't really know anything. They said something about a bypass? They're pretty vague and I have no idea about any of this medical stuff," Nathan explained. Lucas just nodded and ran his hand over his face.

"Listen, I can't stay," Lucas said regrettably after a moment. "Will you tell her I came? And that we're thinking of her."

"We?"

"Lindsey and I. And...and Haley," he said softly.

"Right," Nathan whispered. Haley. "Yeah. I'll tell her."

Nathan waited another hour alone in that room, and Peyton almost wanted to laugh when she saw him reading an issue of _Us Weekly_. She sat next to him, as close as she could get, and he wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"It's not good," she said. "He's talking like...like this is it."

"You don't know that," he insisted.

"He seems to," she managed, letting a sob escape.

He didn't know what to say, so he just held her tighter. He knew it wasn't the time to tell her that Lucas stopped by, or that Karen had called his cell, or that Whitey was asking about her. He got the impression that she only wanted him, and he was more than alright with that. He'd be whatever he needed her to be.

He didn't expect what came next.

"Will you go sit with him?" she asked.

"What? Peyton, I..."

"I need a minute alone, and I have to talk to the doctors. I don't...I don't want him to be by himself," she said, looking up at him with those green eyes shining. He kissed her forehead and nodded, and then she stood and walked down the hall in search of Larry's doctor.

Larry Sawyer had never been Nathan Scott's biggest fan. He hadn't loved the way that boy treated his little girl, and Nathan knew there was good reason for that. He hadn't been a great match for Peyton.

He wondered if that had changed.

Larry was sleeping, so Nathan simply took a seat in the chair by the window and waited for Peyton to return. He thought back on the past couple months and how close the two of them had grown. They were definitely closer than they'd ever been. They'd talked about her breakup with Lucas, and his divorce from Haley. She knew Lucas was married, and it didn't bother her. She really was over him.

He wondered if she could ever love him. He wished he could say he didn't know why he wanted to know.

He couldn't fall in love with her. He couldn't. Not that it was wrong, or bad, or anything else. It was just...He'd tried when he was younger - when they were younger - and he'd failed, and she'd gotten hurt. He wouldn't hurt her again.

He thought that maybe it was for that reason alone - that insistence that he _not_ hurt her - that made it OK for him to fall for her.

It was crazy, he thought. She'd do the subtlest things. She'd toy with the corner of the page of her magazine, or she'd close her eyes when a breeze passed, and his blood would run warmer. He'd wonder what she was thinking. She'd stretch her arms over her head, and he wanted to know where she got that little scar at the small of her back that wasn't there when he used to know her.

There was something about her. There were a lot of things about her. She didn't tell him any of them; she wouldn't. He kind of liked it that way. It was like a game he wanted to play forever. Him getting to know her, and her always trying to be a step ahead of him.

He thought he might chase her as long as she'd let him.

"Nathan," Larry's scratchy voice said. Nathan's head snapped over to look at the man, and he thought he saw just a shadow of a smile.

"Mr. Sawyer. Peyton's just gone to..."

"I want to talk to you," Larry said. Nathan nodded and moved to the chair next to the bed, bracing himself for a conversation he wasn't sure would turn out favourably for him.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but..." Nathan said, his voice trailing. Both men chuckled softly at the joke, and Nathan looked to the ground.

"You make me a promise, son," Larry demanded as firmly as he could. Their eyes locked and Nathan merely nodded. "You take care of her."

"Sir, I'm..."

"Promise me. She doesn't have anything left but you," Larry insisted.

"She's got you," Nathan said, and Larry shook his head.

"I need to know she's taken care of," Larry said. His voice broke, and Nathan saw the tear dance at the edge of the man's eye before it fell onto the pillow.

"I promise," Nathan said softly; honestly. "I'll take care of her."

Nathan almost cried, himself. He'd never come face to face with a man battling his own mortality. He didn't like it.

Larry put his hand over Nathan's, and Nathan just nodded again. There was an unspoken understanding there;

Nathan wouldn't break his promise.

That night, when Peyton and Nathan returned to the house Nathan grew up in, Deb was already sleeping. Nathan had insisted Peyton eat something, and she told him she was craving fries and gravy from the 24 hour diner 45 miles outside of town. Nathan had driven to that diner without complaint or argument, and he sipped a sweet tea while she ate.

He walked her to the guest bedroom, where her bag was sitting on her bed, and she turned to him with an almost childlike expression on her face.

"Can I stay with you?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Of course."

She followed him into his bedroom, and when he pulled his tee shirt over his head, she reached for it from his hands and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. When she emerged, she was wearing just that tee shirt, and he smiled at her. She looked damn sexy, and if it had been a more appropriate time, he would have told her so.

She curled into his bed and into his arms. Tree Hill was a lot colder than Austin, and Nathan didn't mind that one bit. He got to hold her closer, and feel the weight of her arm draped over his stomach in the silence of the room they used to sleep in so often. She didn't say anything, and neither did he, and she loved that.

She wanted to thank him for what he'd done for her, but she had an intense feeling that it wasn't the end. She also knew she didn't really have to thank him.

It was close to 2:00 a.m. when she stirred next to him. He hadn't slept a wink, and he knew she hadn't either, but he didn't want to push her to talk if she didn't want to. She stood from the bed and exited the room, and once he heard her walking down the stairs, he let out a sigh. He had no idea what to do. He'd never been able to really understand her, and as much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't the right time to start asking questions about how she was feeling and why she did the things she did.

He stepped into the kitchen after giving her a little time alone. He'd noticed a soft light shining, and he saw her there, sitting atop the counter with a glass of water next to her.

"Hey," he said softly from his place.

"I'm sorry, Nathan. I don't...I don't know how to do this," she said, shaking her head.

"Don't apologize," he insisted, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "You aren't supposed to know how to do this."

"It almost...It almost feels like he wants to go," she said quietly.

"He wouldn't leave you if he had a choice," Nathan insisted. He knew it to be true.

"Remember the first time you met him?" she asked, her eyes meeting his.

"Painfully." She laughed a little, and he had to smile. "A lot like we are right now."

"Except your hands were under my shirt, and you were standing between my legs," she pointed out. He smiled and shook his head.

"No wonder he hated me," he said. They both chuckled, and he watched her as she looked down, seemingly lost in the memory.

"Come here," she said after a moment of silence. His eyes met hers, and she just stared at him until he was walking towards her.

She moved to the edge of the counter, and when he was close enough, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling her between her legs as she hugged him.

He thought she might just be trying to torture him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anything you need," he answered. He pulled away a little bit, but her hands stayed on his shoulders.

When she kissed him, he really didn't expect it. But he kissed her back, and his hand fell to her bare thigh.

It ended almost as quickly as it began, and that was OK with him. He wouldn't take advantage of her, and she wouldn't rush that connection between them.

She had just wanted to kiss him, so she did it.

They went back to bed, and she curled against his side again, and they didn't talk about that kiss. They woke up with their limbs tangled and their breaths mingling, and he smiled at her sleepily. They used to wake up like that all the time. Her long legs woven with his, and his hand on her back.

Deb smiled at Nathan knowingly when the two 'kids' stepped into the kitchen, fully dressed and showered, but he just shook his head. He couldn't say there was nothing going on between them, but he couldn't label it either.

So he'd just act like it wasn't there until he and Peyton addressed it. She had bigger things to worry about, like an ex-boyfriend sitting at the breakfast table with a gold band on his finger, and a father in the hospital.

Nathan watched as Lucas hugged Peyton, the two of them seeing each other for the first time in years. He eavesdropped on the conversation between the two blondes, and when Peyton mentioned loving Austin even more now that she had Nathan, he could only smile.

She _had_ him.

If she only knew.

----

Larry Sawyer died on a Wednesday with his daughter at his side, and Nathan Scott at hers.

He had her in his arms so quickly it was scary. He had to hold her up so she didn't collapse under the weight of her grief. He stroked her hair and murmured in her ear, and he didn't leave her side through anything.

Brooke didn't - couldn't - attend, but she sent flowers and a hand-written letter to her best friend. Haley spent one-on-one time with Peyton, only when Peyton insisted to Nathan that it was OK. He and Haley got along fine, and Lucas and Lindsey were there for the blonde as well. Things in that town had changed, but as both she and Nathan realized - and spoke about late one night when she couldn't sleep and he wouldn't let her stay up alone - in the face of awful circumstances, all those old friends could come together again. She liked that.

But it was still Nathan on one side of her, and Deb on the other as she stood in a black dress and mourned the loss of the only family she had left.

She decided to keep that old house there for a while. She didn't want to sift through all those memories - she said she couldn't take the time off, but Nathan knew she just _couldn't_. So she decided to just leave that house there, vacant, and Deb offered to check up on it every so often. Deb had a feeling that house wouldn't be sold any time soon.

When Peyton suggested they drive her father's old Corvette back to Austin, he simply smiled and nodded his head. Lucas did a quick tune up, and then they were on their way.

She couldn't help but think, as she sat in the passenger seat and she and Nathan pulled out of that town, that she was taking the best thing Tree Hill had to offer back to Austin with her. That thing wasn't that old car; it was the man driving it.

They traveled straight through, taking turns driving instead of staying overnight anywhere, in hopes of getting back in time for Nathan's next game. He only missed one while they were away, and his general manager had been fine with that, given the circumstances.

Somewhere in Mississippi, Peyton smiled for, really, the first time since her dad's heart attack.

"What?" Nathan asked when he saw her with her hand on the wheel and that gorgeous smile on her face.

God, he loved that smile.

"We kissed."

"Well, you kissed me," he said with a smirk.

"You kissed back!"

"You think I wouldn't?"

"Well, no. I mean, Nathan Scott never could turn down a girl," she teased.

"I've turned down plenty of girls, thank you," he said. They both laughed at just how that sounded.

"I'm sorry. It was...I was confused, and you were being so nice, and...I just wanted to," she said.

He felt a little like his heart was breaking. She wanted to, but she only wanted to because he was there and he was taking care of her.

She always did fall for her heros.

"You don't want to do it again?" he asked softly, looking to their hands, clasped over the gearshift.

"What?"

"That was it? One kiss, that's all?" he asked as delicately as he could.

"Nathan, I'm..."

"I know it's like, the worst timing ever, but...I don't know, Peyton."

"Nathan, this friendship...this you and me...this is what I have right now. It's _all_ I have right now," she explained. "And if I could just kiss you and not worry about messing things up, I would, because...well, you're a damn good kisser."

"I know," he said. She laughed, and it was music to his ears. "No. I mean...Well, yeah. I _am_ a good kisser." She laughed harder and pulled her hand from his for the sole purpose of hitting him. "But I get the friends thing. I just...I dunno. I liked kissing you, too."

She just smiled at him and stayed quiet, then she turned up the radio. She didn't take his hand again, and he didn't need to ask why.

And he'd made a promise to her father. Unless he was 100 per cent certain that a relationship between the two of them would be forever, he wouldn't engage in one. He wouldn't leave her alone, and he wouldn't let Larry down.

But he still wanted to kiss her. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want a hell of a lot more from her, too.

----

They didn't kiss again. They didn't talk about kissing again. They went back to their friendship and nothing was awkward, and nothing really changed.

They got even closer, in the aftermath of that tragedy. She'd call him in the middle of the night, just needing to hear a little bit of home, she'd say. He'd talk to her until she felt better again, and she'd apologize for waking him, but they both knew it wasn't necessary.

She fell asleep one night at his house watching The Bourne Identity. He'd later make fun of her, asking how she could fall asleep during The Bourne Identity. He couldn't bring himself to wake her, but he couldn't leave her to sleep on the sofa, so he hooked one arm beneath her knees, and the other around her back, and he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. Sure, he had a spare, but, well, he liked sleeping next to her.

She was already in sweats - just one of the sets of clothes she kept at his house - so he simply covered her over with the blankets and took his place next to her. He didn't fall asleep touching her, but they woke up tangled in each other, just like they always seemed to.

"'Morning," she murmured. His face was mere inches from hers, and she resisted the urge to just lean over and kiss him.

"'Morning."

"You carried me?"

"Mhmm."

"Sorry. I fell asleep," she explained needlessly.

"I know," he said with a sleepy chuckle.

"You didn't undress me," she noted.

She wasn't sure why they weren't moving away from one another. They probably should have been, but they weren't. She was kind of OK with it. She kind of liked his arms around her. She definitely liked his torso pressed against hers.

"I'm not some pervert, Sawyer."

"I don't know. Maybe you are."

"Shut up. Make me breakfast," he said gruffly.

"Nathan!" she cried, rolling away from him.

"If I need to smack your ass to get you to do it, I'm OK with that."

"You _are_ a pervert."

She stood from the bed and stretched her arms over her head, and when her tank top rode up, he saw that little scar again, and he thought there was no better time to ask. He moved across the bed and reached out, tracing that little inch-long line of pink flesh lightly with his index finger.

She turned her head and twisted her body to see him, and when their eyes met, they both smiled. His hands felt nice on her skin, she thought.

"What's this from?" he asked, still moving his finger along the scar.

"Snake bite."

"Come on," he laughed. "Tell me."

"It's stupid."

"Then I'll laugh at you. Tell me," he repeated.

"When I was dating Garret, we went to Utah. He thought we should snowboard," she explained.

"How did you cut your back snowboarding?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I didn't. We were in bed, and..."

"Whoa. Enough. Don't want to know." He shook his head vehemently, and she rolled her eyes.

He wasn't really joking. The thought of her in bed with someone else had his blood boiling.

"Shut up and let me finish!" she cried, and he rolled onto his back.

Damn, he was gorgeous. She let herself think it for a second. Only a second. The sheets were gathered around his waist, and his chiseled body was on display. He was kind of sexy. Really sexy.

"We were in bed, and he made me sleep on the right side."

"You hate sleeping on the right side," he said knowingly.

"Yeah. And when I fell out of bed and hit my back on the bedside table, I never let him live it down."

"So what does that have to do with snowboarding?" he asked. He knew better than to ask how exactly she hit her _back_ on a bedside table. It seemed a little impossible to him, but he also could tell she wasn't lying.

"Nothing," she said with a shrug. He just laughed. The girl was something else. "Come on. I'll make breakfast."

She headed down to the kitchen while he pulled on some clothes, and when he walked in and saw her standing at the counter, moving around like she belonged there, he thought that maybe she did.

He walked up behind her and brushed against her as he grabbed a piece of melon from the cutting board. He heard her take a deep breath when he trailed his hand from her shoulder down to her elbow.

"Nathan."

"What?" he asked. He wondered if she could hear him smirking. He kind of loved knowing that he could get her all worked up.

"Nothing," she said softly.

The moment passed, just like all those moments between them seemed to do, and they ate their breakfast with their usual playful banter and harmless insults before Peyton left to go home, and Nathan left to go to his practice.

But there was something different about that day, she felt. She'd allowed herself to feel that attraction to him. She'd allowed herself to look at him like he was a single man and she was a single woman. She'd let herself believe that his simple touch to her arm was more than just a simple touch.

She liked it. She liked waking up with him. She loved that he was thoughtful enough to carry her up a flight of stairs to tuck her into bed, and that he was curious about so many of the things about her that he didn't know.

She didn't expect that one of his players would ask her out.

She really didn't expect that she'd say yes.

She was standing in the gym one Saturday, waiting for her 'date' to come from the locker room after practice to take her for lunch. She knew it was a bad idea to meet there, but he'd suggested it, and she couldn't argue that it made sense.

She took a ball off the rack and spun it in her hands, and just for fun, she shot it from the free throw line, just like Nathan had taught her when they were teenagers. Nathan watched from behind her, smirking to himself when he saw her positioning her hands. When the ball went in, he called her attention to him.

"Nice form. Bet your coach was awesome."

"Oh. Hey, Nathan," she said softly.

"What's up?" he asked, sensing that something was off. She was never really that quiet.

"Peyton." Both Nathan and Peyton turned in the direction of the voice.

"Parker. Hi," she said to the man now standing to Nathan's right.

"You ready to go to lunch? I know this great place," Parker said.

She could see the look on Nathan's face, and she knew she was hurting him, even though it really wasn't her intention to do so. She hadn't thought it would be _that_ horrible for her to date someone. They were just friends, and as nice as the idea of them as a couple might have seemed, it was just that. An idea.

"Um...yeah. Why don't you wait for me outside? I just need a minute with Nathan," she said.

"Sure thing. Later, Coach," Parker said.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," Nathan said as nonchalantly as he could.

Once Parker was through the doors and out of earshot, Nathan folded his arms over his chest and gave Peyton a cold stare that she hated.

"So. You have a date."

"It's...He just asked me, and..."

"And you couldn't say no?" he asked indignantly.

"Nathan..."

"I guess I just thought you and I..."

"We've had this conversation," she reminded him.

"A month ago. When you were...When things were bad," he said.

She didn't really have an argument. He was right. And she wanted him. She really did. She just couldn't lose him and she didn't want to risk it.

"Nathan, you and I..."

"Is there a you and I, Peyton?" he asked angrily. She didn't answer, and he hated her for it. "Whatever. Go to lunch."

"Nathan."

"Peyton...just go. Have fun. I'll talk to you when I talk to you."

He walked away before she could stop him.

Her lunch didn't go well, and she knew it had a lot to do with Nathan, and only a little to do with the fact that Parker was boring. All he talked about was basketball, but he didn't speak of it the same way Nathan did. He didn't look at her across the table the same way Nathan did. When she glanced at his plate, he didn't roll his eyes and smile and tell her to take what she wanted the way Nathan did.

She didn't want Parker. He was attractive, and he was funny, in a frat boy kind of way, and maybe if there wasn't a Nathan, there could be a Parker. But Nathan took care of her. He looked out for her. He did the things she loved without her ever having to ask, and she adored that about him.

She'd felt a change after that one little kiss, and at first, she'd loved Nathan for understanding and not pushing the issue.

Now she hated him for not just telling her that he obviously wanted to be with her.

But maybe he had told her. Maybe those subtle touches and those little glances and those unspoken gestures were his way of telling her that he didn't want to just be her friend.

Maybe he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.

She let herself into his house, heading there straight after her 'date'. She burst through the door angrily, calling out for him.

"What?" he called, jogging out from his home office. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

She smiled. He'd been so angry and so hurt, and he was still looking after her.

"No, you jackass, you ruined my lunch."

"Oh. Well. Sorry," he said, though his voice didn't display any real remorse.

"You realize you're, like, impossible to forget?" she asked, throwing her hands in the air. "I can't...I can't do anything without you in my head."

"Sorry?" he repeated. He wasn't sure he should be apologizing.

"Nathan, ever since you moved here, I've been...You make me feel things," she shouted, taking a step towards him. They were still in the foyer of his home, though neither really cared. It was as good a place as any for the conversation this obviously was. "I can't...I can't stop thinking about you, and your stupid body, and your stupid smirk, and your stupid eyes, and your stupid..."

He stalked towards her and grabbed her, pressing his lips to hers with his hands on her upper arms, gripping her tightly enough to leave imprints on her skin.

"Lips," she finished when they'd parted.

"I've wanted to do that since the last time you kissed me."

"Do it again," she whispered. She saw him smirk right before he did what she'd told him to.

He very quickly wrapped his arms around her, and when he rest his forehead against hers, that was when she relaxed against him.

"I love kissing you," he said. "I love that you just yelled all those sweet things at me."

"I'm sorry, but...You're fun to yell at," she said softly, and they both laughed.

"Peyton."

"Hmm?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on his lips.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I promised your dad I'd take care of you," he admitted to her for the first time. "I figure the only way to make sure no one breaks your heart is if I have it."

She closed her eyes and her chin started to quiver, and he rest his palm on her cheek.

"Really?" she said softly. She loved her father for knowing Nathan would be there for her.

"I don't break my promises," he said, and she nodded. "And I'll never make you sleep on the right side of the bed."

"Yeah?" she asked, laughing softly and smiling up at him.

He didn't miss that little glimmer in those green eyes, letting him know that she was happy. He used to see it every so often. He was going to do everything he could to make sure that glimmer was a permanent fixture.

"Yeah."

"Nathan, I can't...I can't say it back."

"Okay," he whispered, nodding his head gently. He knew he'd kind of ambushed her with the information. He hadn't really expected her to say those words. He'd hoped, but not expected.

"But I think I will," she finished, smiling when he did. "Soon."

"Is that your way of telling me to make you fall in love with me?" he asked with a smirk.

"Do your best."

He laughed a little and pulled her against him, cradling her head against his chest.

"I will."

She had a feeling it wouldn't take much.

**_-Fin-_**


End file.
